When a Riddler Meets an Enigma
by Pierre Gringoire
Summary: Part Three of my Edward Nigma, Private Investigator Series! Edward gets a surprise he never expected, or wanted.
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Notes: Hello again! Welcome back to the continuing adventures of Edward Nigma, Private Investigator. This one is a bit of a change of pace. We won't be advancing the overall story arc all that much, but we will get to meet someone very important. Eddie's got no idea what he's in for...**

The worst part about not having a secretary, Edward Nigma decided, was having to get up early and open the office himself. He brought this on himself, he supposed. He had fired Tracy after all, after being told by Selina just how little she cared about his four day disappearance. Last thing he needed was a secretary that tied up his phone line while he was being brainwashed by a former friend. That had been three weeks ago. His phone bill was down now, but he was still out a secretary. And so, at 8:00 in the morning in late August, Edward Nigma found himself climbing the steps into his office building, coffee cup in one hand and newspaper held under his other arm. He stifled a yawn as he climbed up towards his office, with nothing to look forward to but reading through the news for new cases, sorting through his mail, sending the death threats to the GCPD for them to do nothing about and check in with his informants. Just another day really.

Edward stopped suddenly as he reached the top of the stairs. Maybe not. Sitting on the floor just by his office door was a girl. From first glance, she looked to be in her teens, but her large headphones obscured his view of her face. She didn't look up as he approached, engrossed by a sketchpad and tapping her foot to the music he could hear blaring out of her headphones. He stopped when he was just an inch away from her and she didn't even look up. Edward cocked his head a bit, unsure what to make of this development. He certainly was used to seeing clients first thing in the morning, but they tended to be approaching middle age. Most who were younger couldn't pay the necessary fees. Well, he thought, he wasn't going to get any answers just standing over the girl like this. He cleared his throat. The girl made no response, continuing to sketch away. Edward frowned. If he was going to be bothered this early in the morning, he could at least be acknowledged. He poked the girl in the shoulder with the tip of his cane.

This finally got her attention. She ripped her headphones from her ears and looked upward. "What the fu-" Her expletive was cut off mid-sentence as she looked up at Edward for the first time. Edward was able to get a good look at the girl for the first time. She was indeed young, no more than 16 if Edward had to hazard a guess. Her bright red hair tied up in pigtails and the baby fat on her face only emphasized her youth. Her green eyes were wide with surprise and something akin to awe as she looked up at Edward. It was becoming a bit disconcerting.

"May I help you?" Edward asked her.

The girl jumped to her feet then, shoving her sketchpad and Walkman into her knapsack and pulling it on. She was petite indeed, only coming up to Edward's shoulder. "Holy crap!" she cried out. "It's you! It's really you!" Her expression turned from surprise to barely contained excitement. "I can't believe it!" She moved to approach him, then took a step back. "You-you're...you're a lot taller than I thought you'd be."

Edward raised an eyebrow. "Well, that's one I haven't heard before," he said acerbically. "Now, was there something you needed-?"

"Yeah!" The girl almost shouted, clasping her hands. "I mean," she said, calming herself down a bit. "Yes, D-Mr. Nigma. I've been wanting to talk to you for a long time."

"I'm sure," Edward replied, unlocking his office door. "I hate to disappoint you, but I don't take cases from minors. Too much of a liability risk, you see." He gently brushed the girl aside as he opened the door. "If you have some need of assistance, I'd recommend going to the-" Before he could finish his sentence, the girl had walked through the open door and into his office. Edward paused, momentarily taken aback by her boldness. "Well," he muttered, "Go on in." Edward followed her into his office, closing the door behind him.

The girl took no notice of him as he followed her into the waiting room, instead reading all of the newspaper clippings posted along the walls. She seemed to take her being in his office as her birthright, rather than the imposition it was on Edward. "These are so cool," she said. "Did you really fight that guy in the park during the Arkham memorial? That's bad ass."

"If you say so," Edward said testily, as he walked into his main office. The girl dutifully followed him, stopping along the way to admire the old trophies he had on his shelf. While she was distracted, Edward took a moment to study her. Had he met her before? Probably not, as she had said she had been wanting to meet him for some time before today, but still. There was something familiar about her. Edward hung his cane up on the wall and sat down behind his desk. "Now," he said. "As I said before you barged in, I don't take cases from minors."

The girl walked over to his desk then. "I'm not here about a case," she said.

Edward chuckled a bit. "Let me guess: you want me to be the subject of your book report?"

The girl shook her head. "I don't go back to school for another week." She rubbed her arm somewhat nervously. "I, uh-this is kind of personal."

Edward rested his hand on his face as he considered this information. If this was personal and she wasn't here for a case...oh no. Edward was no stranger to groupies, but this girl was really too young for that kind of nonsense. "Young lady," he began sternly. "I know what you're going to say and that's not remotely appropriate. I'm old enough to be your father." Well, barely.

The girl pulled a face then. "Gross! It's not like that!"

Edward was beginning to lose his patience. He had enough on his plate without playing a guessing game with a highschooler. "Well then, what do you want? What do you need? What possible reason do you have for ambushing me outside my office at 8:00 in the morning?

The girl opened her mouth, then shut it again. "I-" she started and stopped. Her eyes went to her feet. The girl shuffled a bit, twirling a lock of her red pigtail. "This sounded a lot better in my head," she mumbled. Edward was about to ask her to come to the point when she took a deep breath. "OK," she said. "My name's Ellen Dixon." She bit down her bottom lip a bit, then continued in a rushed tone, "This is going to sound really weird...but I'm pretty sure I'm your daughter."

For a moment, there was nothing but silence as Edward processed what he had just heard. He had just heard that, hadn't he? "C-Come again?" he asked, hating how flustered he sounded.

"My name's Ellen Dixon," she repeated, in a bolder tone of voice, looking up to make eye contact with him this time. "And I'm your daughter."

Edward shut his eyes and felt a headache coming on. This was a dream. This was a dream and he was about to wake up in his cramped apartment 30 minutes before his alarm went off. He in no way had some teenager in his office claiming to be his spawn. He was going to open his eyes and he would be back home. He opened his eyes again and he was still in his office, the girl, Ellen Dixon she called herself, staring intently at him with those green eyes. She seemed to be waiting for him to respond to her. So he responded in the only way that seemed even remotely appropriate for this situation. He laughed.

Now it was the girl's turn to be flustered. "What's so funny?" she asked. "I just said I'm your daughter!"

Edward just laughed harder, clutching at his sides. Finally, he calmed down enough to look back up at her, wiping the tears of mirth from his eyes. "Alright," he said, voice cracking slightly. "Who sent you? Oswald? Was this his idea of a joke?"

The girl looked confused. "No one sent me. I came here on my own."

"So this was your idea of a joke? I'll give you credit: I certainly didn't see that coming." Edward straightened his posture and fixed the girl with a serious gaze. "Now young lady-"

"Ellen," she interrupted, not seeming to be intimidated at all by him. Did she have any real idea who he was? "My name's Ellen, not 'young lady'."

"Miss Dixon," Edward calmly, but forcefully addressed her. "I really have a lot of work to do today, so go run off to the mall or whatever street corner you kids like to hang out at nowadays." He pulled open his desk drawer and began to look over the job applications he'd had for his secretarial position. When he looked back up, the girl was still standing in front of his desk, eyes blazing. "Good bye, Miss Dixon." he said, emphasizing his words.

"That's it?" she asked him. "I just told you I'm your kid and you just tell me to buzz off?"

"If I gave an audience to every crank that came in here I'd never get any work done! What exactly do you want from me?"

"I'm not a crank!" she shouted at him, stomping her foot. "I'm not making this up! You're my dad!"

Edward took a deep breath and massaged his temple with the tips of his fingers. Good God, this girl was serious, wasn't she?

"So you've said," he seethed. "Very well," he pushed himself back from his desk and looked her dead in the eye. "I'll indulge you: how old exactly are you?"

"15," Ellen answered. "I was born on July 15th, 1991."

Edward frowned a bit. July 15th 1991...that would put her date of conception in October of 1990. He would have only been 20 years old then. His memories of that period of his life were vague at best. "And who is your mother?"

"My mother's name is Diane Dixon. Was Diane Dixon." Ellen's face fell a bit. "She died in a car wreck when I was 10."

There was an awkward pause as Edward tried to think of what to say. "That's...unfortunate," he settled on. For her and for him, he thought. A living mother would make disproving this a lot easier. "I don't recall anyone by that name however." That much was true.

Ellen didn't look deterred though. "No offense, but I heard that there's a lot you don't remember. Maybe my mom is one of them?"

Edward's eyes narrowed. "Isn't that convenient for you?" he growled out. The girl for the first time seemed to realize that she was speaking with a reformed super villain and paled a bit, but she didn't take a step back. In other circumstances, Edward could almost admire her courage. He forced himself to calm down a bit. If this girl was trying to take him for a ride, he'd know soon enough. "Before her demise, did your mother tell you that I was your father?"

Ellen shook her head. "No," she said. "She never talked about you. She never told me anything about who my Dad was."

"So then, how did you come to the conclusion that I was your father?"

Ellen chewed the bottom of her lip a bit. "All my life," she said, in a tone of voice that betrayed just how young she really was. "I saw other kids with their dads and I felt like half of me was missing. At least with the kids who didn't have dads, they knew why. I never did. My Mom never told me, my Grandma or anyone who he was. She just shut down whenever I asked. I thought I'd never know. Then, when I was about eight, I saw you on the news, doing some theft." She looked up at him, conviction or mania lighting up her face. Edward wasn't sure he wanted to know which. "They showed a picture of you when you were younger for the news segment and you looked like me! I don't look like anyone in my family, but you looked like me!" She pointed her fingers at her face. "We have the same eyes, we've both got red hair, we've even got the same chin!"

Edward wasn't moved by either the backstory or the 'evidence'. Poison Ivy had red hair and green eyes, would this girl claim that she was her mother next? "I have auburn hair actually, not true red," Edward pointed out. "And I hardly think an 8 year old thinking a man she saw briefly on the television shares a few physical traits with her is enough to establish paternity."

"There's more," she argued. "When my Mom walked in, she flipped out. She sent me to my room and told me to never talk about what I saw on the TV. She spent the rest of the day crying. Any time you were on the TV, she'd change the channel. She never acted like that when any of the other Rogues were on the news."

Edward chewed the tip of his pen in thought. It did seem to be a bit of a dramatic response, but there were a million other reasonable explanations. "It sounds like your mother may have ran afoul of me in my criminal days. That or she just didn't like Riddles. Now, if you've been convinced so long that I was your father, why are you only now coming to me? Why didn't you try reaching out sooner?"

Ellen threw her hands up in frustration. "What was I going to do, hop a bus to Arkham and tell the front desk 'Hey, the Riddler's my Dad! Can we have some father-daughter time in the rec room!?'"

"It would have made you a bit more convincing," Edward said. "It seems a bit convenient that you didn't decide to contact me until after I'd lost my memory and reformed. What exactly do you want? Money? Notoriety?"

The girl looked stricken for a moment, then she set her jaw. "You really are a bitter asshole," she seethed. "I don't want your money. I just want to know who my father is! Is that a crime?"

Of course. It was the ideal of a father this girl wanted, not him. That somehow made this ordeal worse. "No," Edward admitted. "You have every right to know your identity." Edward tried to be as patient and measured as he could be when speaking to the girl. "I don't know why your mother kept your father's identity from you, but I'm sure she had her reasons. I'd recommend speaking to a counselor. You clearly have some deep seated issues about this. At any rate, I think you've wasted my time long enough. I've heard nothing whatsoever to convince me that is more than the fantasy of a girl with too much time on her hands."

"You want proof? I'll prove it!" The girl shouted. "I'll do a DNA test! I'll prove that your my Dad!"

Edward narrowed his eyes. "If you think I'm going to consent to an invasive procedure on your say so, you're even more delusional than I thought. Now get out of my office."

Ellen looked almost desperately at him, then turned angry again. "You can't just-"

Edward had had just about all he could take of this. He got up out of his chair and glowered at the girl. "Leave now," he said in a low tone. "Or I'll call building security and have them escort you out. Do not contact me again."

For a moment, the girl held his gaze. "I'm not crazy," she said finally. "I'm your daughter. I'm your daughter and I'm going to prove it!" Then she turned and left his office, slamming the office door behind her. Edward sank back down into his chair and returned to his paperwork. He shook his head ruefully. A girl claiming to be his daughter. That was something he never expected to have to deal with. He wondered if Oswald had ever had an encounter like this.

* * *

For the next three days, Edward gave no thought to the girl. She hadn't been by his office again, which gave further credence to the idea that she was nothing more than an attention seeker with too much time on her hands. Edward busied himself with his work, conducting two interviews for his secretary position and taking another straying spouse case to pay the bills. He was in his apartment tonight, going over the photographs he'd taken over some lukewarm Chinese take out. He was interrupted in his musings by the sound of his cell phone ringing. "Edward Nigma, Private Investigator." he answered.

 _"Edward?"_

Edward raised an eyebrow. "Oswald? What can I do for you tonight?"

 _"Are you near a television?"_

Edward was surprised by the bemused tone in Oswald's voice. "Why? Something interesting happening?"

 _"You tell me Edward."_

Edward walked over to his coffee table and picked up his TV remote with his free hand. For Oswald to call him at this hour over a news story? Something was going on. Something big. Something he could perhaps capitalize on. He turned on his TV and switched it to the news station, where Vicki Vale was doing a live news report. He turned the volume up on his TV.

 **"This is Vicki Vale, reporting live from Saul's Deli in Gotham's West End. Tonight, this was the scene of an attempted robbery. A robbery that was averted by a new costumed hero."**

Edward's interest, piqued by Oswald's demeanor, was beginning to wane. "A new vigilante? Oswald, those are a dime a dozen in this town. Why would you think I'd-"

 **-"Witnesses describe her as a teenaged girl, with red hair and wearing a shirt with a question marked emblem-"**

Edward stopped short. A question mark emblem? It couldn't be...

 **"-She called herself Enigma and declared that she was the daughter of no other than Edward Nigma, formerly known as the super villain, the Riddler."**

Edward dropped the remote. He'd known the girl was delusional. He clearly didn't realize just how much though. He stood rooted to the spot as Vale continued.

 **"Witnesses also said that she spray painted the wall of the deli with her father's trademark green question mark-"**

Vale had already declared him the brat's father. Edward's fist clenched and he felt his face flush. How dare that reckless, childish little fool try to cash in on his legacy? The gall, the presumption-

 **"One thing seems clear: whoever this girl is, whether she's the Riddler's daughter or not, she's already won over the crowd at Saul's Deli. This is Vicki Vale, reporting for Gotham Insider."**

Edward had almost forgotten he was still on the phone with Oswald when he heard the man on the other line clear his throat.

 _"Edward? Is there something you'd like to tell me?"_

* * *

Edward's horrid night gave way to a worse morning. After violently assuring Oswald that he was not in fact the girl's father, he had retired for the evening, hoping against hope that when he woke up the following morning, the events of the previous week would have been a nightmare. Instead, he woke up to a barrage of voice messages on his cell phone, ranging from an amused one from Selina wondering why he'd kept being a father from her, to a message from Jack Ryder asking for an official comment, to even Harvey Bullock of all people, demanding that he get a handle on the situation before the media blew it out of control. He ignored Selina's message entirely, told Ryder that he had no comment, and told Bullock to go fuck himself. By 7:45, when he finally dragged himself out of his apartment and made his way to his office, he had already swallowed more than the recommended dose of headache medicine. Thankfully, the media wasn't waiting for him outside his office building. Edward scowled. Any other circumstance, he would soak up the limelight, consider it his proper due. In this circumstance though? He'd come too far and had too much on his plate to get pulled into something so tawdry. If he was going to be the subject of scrutiny, let it be for something he actually did, not because some crackpot decided to use him to get five minutes of fame.

He walked up the steps, toward his office and was greeted by a familiar sight. The girl was outside his door, standing this time, and waiting for him. She looked at him and gave him a smug smirk. "Hiya Pops," she drawled. "How'd you like my debut?"

Edward, already irritated, became infuriated. "You stupid, reckless child!" he yelled as he came closer to her. "Do you have any idea what you've done!?"

The girl didn't so much as flinch. "I stopped some punk from robbing my favorite deli," she said. "I'm alright, by the way."

"That's all well and good, but you dragged my name into it!" Edward shouted, stopping when he was about an inch away from her. "I've had tabloids calling me non stop since last night! What were you thinking? Were you even thinking!?" Edward took a deep breath to calm himself down. "You do realize," he said to her, "That if anyone at that deli recognized you, you would have invited a lot of trouble on you and the poor soul who's looking after you, don't you?"

The girl rolled her eyes at him. "Well duh. I'm not stupid. That's why I wore a mask."

Edward sputtered an incoherent reply at her. "That's not-that's not the point. That's so far from being the point it's not even on the same map!" Edward slapped his hand against his forehead and massaged his temples. This wasn't his life. He was still trapped in whatever fantasy world Jervis had put him in three weeks ago. "Well," he said finally. "You got your five minutes of fame. Was it worth it?"

"Sure was," the girl said. She glared up at him. "It got your attention, didn't it? Now I'm not just some crazy kid anymore. I'm a superhero. Now you have to deal with me."

Edward grit his teeth. This girl was either very smart or very, very dumb. "You are a far cry from being a superhero," he said. "You're a little girl playing make believe and meddling in affairs you have no business in." The girl did not respond to that, but just continued to hold his gaze.

"I'm not going to go away," she said finally. "What are you going to about it, old man?"

Edward was the smartest man in Gotham. He was formerly the Riddler, the man who put Batman himself through challenges that would make lesser men break. How had he fallen so low that he was challenged by a 15 year old girl?

"Alright," he said. "I'll make a deal with you. I'll investigate the question of your paternity. I'll even see if I can track down your actual sperm donor. And when I prove that I'm not your father, you will never contact me again and you will never, ever use my insignia again. If you want to put on tights and fight crime, that's your affair, but you won't use anything even remotely connected to me. Deal?"

Ellen nodded. "And if you are my father?"

"I'm not."

"But what if you are!?"

Edward didn't answer her, instead entering his office and slamming the door behind him before she could even think of following him. He threw his cane and coat on Tracy's old desk and stalked towards his file cabinets. Who was Ellen Dixon? Was she a scheming attention seeker who wanted to ride his coat tails? A delusional girl who believed her own fiction? Or was she truly a lonely orphan who wanted the truth about her origins? Or was she all of the above? Whatever she was, Edward realized that he wouldn't get any peace from her until she knew the truth. Until he knew the truth.


	2. Chapter 2

The first step, Edward decided while looking through his file cabinet, was to nail down his exact location in October 1990. If he was in jail or otherwise occupied during the period of the girl's conception and he could prove it, that would be the best way to rid himself of her. Finally, he found the file that he was looking for. He closed the cabinet and sat back down at his chair, setting the file on his desk and beginning to read through it. During his recovery, he'd been given an outline of his life to help jog his memories. Dr. Leland had allowed him to keep it after he'd been cleared. It was basic, but it had the most important dates in his life up until that point, including dates he'd been arrested. He looked through the beginning of the outline and frowned. He'd been arrested in 1990, but in December. According to this, he was at liberty during October, which meant he couldn't immediately rule himself out as the girl's father. He shut the file with a huff. Alright. Maybe he wasn't in jail. That was a far way from proving he'd ever even met the girl's mother, let alone had relations with her. Indeed, under the list of known associates, the name Diane Dixon was absent. Edward frowned a bit. There were plenty of associates he'd had, past and present, that GCPD knew nothing about. Well, Edward thought, if he didn't remember knowing a Diane Dixon, there were at least two people he knew back then who would. He pulled out his cell phone, selected a number from his contacts list and dialed. After two rings, a familiar voice answered.

 _"Hi Eddie."_

Despite the situation, Edward smiled a bit. "Hello Nina. How have you been?"

 _"Pretty good. Deirdre and I pulled off a pretty nice job two days ago. What's up? Selina giving you trouble again?"_

"No, actually. As it happens, I've run into a bit of a conundrum that I need your help in solving. Do you have a minute?"

There was a slight pause before Nina answered. _"You're not calling me from a car trunk, are you?"_

Edward chuckled a bit. "No, nothing like that. I just need you to clarify some things for me. We knew each in 1990, right?"

 _"...Yeah. We all met in '89. Why?"_

Now for the moment of truth. "Did you ever meet, or did I ever mention a Diane Dixon?"

There was a longer pause. Edward felt his stomach begin to drop. It couldn't be true. He would have remembered having a _child._ Finally, Nina spoke. _"She's the kid's mom, isn't she?"_

Edward groaned. 'Who told you? Oswald? Selina? It was Selina, wasn't it?"

 _"Ozzie called us up last night and asked us if we'd ever heard of you having a kid. He told us the whole story. So this Diane Dixon's her Mom, right?"_

"So she says," Edward huffed. "So?" He asked impatiently. "Was there a Diane Dixon or not?"

 _'If there was, Deirdre and I never met her,"_ Nina said. _"You never mentioned one either, but we didn't really talk about our personal lives that much back then. The most you ever talked about anyone else was this one time you were thinking about bringing in a fourth member to our gang. I don't know who that was though. Might not have even been a woman."_

Edward breathed in a sigh of relief. If he'd never mentioned her to Query and Echo, than even if, _if_ he had known her, then she couldn't have been very important to him. Certainly not important enough to have a child with. "Thank you Nina."

 _"So, did you meet the kid? What's she like?"_

Edward thought about the two encounters he'd had with the girl and frowned. "Yes, I did. She was perhaps the most obnoxious person I've ever had the displeasure of encountering."

Nina laughed over the other end. _"Sounds about right."_

Edward rolled his eyes. He couldn't see her, but he just knew that she found this whole thing funny. "Nina I'm detecting a distinct lack of sympathy. Don't tell me you believe she's my child."

 _"I don't know, I didn't meet her. I have to admit though, it might have been fun to have had a little girl in our gang."_

"Maybe for you and Deirdre. I hate children."

 _"You do not,"_ Nina argued.

"Oh yes I do."

 _"You do not. You once gave a kid a $100 bill for telling you a riddle."_

Edward didn't recall this, but it sounded all too plausible. "And you didn't stop me why?"

 _"It was kind of cute,"_ Nina answered. _"I gotta get going. Was there anything else you needed from me boss?"_

"No," Edward sighed. "Thank you Nina. Take care." He hung up before she could reply. Edward leaned back in his seat and rubbed his temples. His conversation with Nina, while answering one question, wasn't as illuminating has he'd hoped. If he wanted definitive proof one way or another, he'd have to keep digging.

* * *

Later that afternoon, Edward was walking up to the door of Dr. Joan Leland. He'd debated for some time whether this was the wisest course of action for him, but he finally pushed his doubts away. He needed information about his past that Query and Echo wouldn't necessarily have access to and, much as he was loathe to admit it, Joan Leland was just about the only person connected to his time at Arkham that he fully trusted to tell him the truth. He stopped in front of her door and paused. Hopefully, she wouldn't use this as an opportunity to talk about how he _felt_ about the whole situation. That should be obvious. Finally, he raised his knuckles briskly knocked on the door.

"Come in," Dr. Leland's voice rang from the other side. Edward opened the door and let himself into her office. Dr. Leland sat at her desk, reading over her paperwork. She looked up at him as he entered and gave him a warm smile. "Edward. Please, take a seat."

Edward smiled back and sat down in the chair in front of her desk. This greeting was a far cry from the greeting he'd received from last doctor he'd visited in the past month. "Dr. Leland. A pleasure." There was a slight pause before Dr. Leland spoke.

"I have to admit, I was surprised when you called me," Dr. Leland said. "Is everything alright?"

Edward gave her a wry look. "Have you seen the news lately?"

"Ah, yes, 'Enigma'." Dr. Leland looked slightly bemused. "That was something I never expected to see."

"You and me both," Edward muttered darkly.

"Was that the first time you heard of her?"

Edward shook his head. "She came to my office three days before that, claiming that she was my daughter."

Dr. Leland leaned forward slightly. "How did you respond?"

Edward raised an eyebrow. "How do you think I responded? I asked her for proof and when she didn't have any, I sent her off. I have too much time on my hands to be bothered with some star struck teenager who thinks she's a superhero."

"I hope you weren't quite that blunt with her Edward."

Edward rolled his eyes. "Trust me Dr. Leland, I was more patient with her than she deserved. And I certainly didn't deserve to be blindsided by either her coming to my office or her going to the news." He became more agitated the more he thought about it. "Such gall...just who does she think she is, pulling a stunt like that?"

"Acting out for attention while in costume?" Dr. Leland asked archly. "I can't imagine where she might have gotten that idea from."

Edward narrowed his eyes. "Very funny. And my suits are not costumes, thank you very much."

Dr. Leland ignored Edward's sullen response and continued probing. "What was she like when you first met her?"

Edward leaned back a bit, tucking his hands behind his head and looking upwards. "She was quite possibly the worst child I've ever met and yes, that's including the various Robins. She was insistent that she was my daughter despite having no proof other than her thinking that there was a physical resemblance between us. "

"What about her mother?"

Edward shrugged. "She said that she was dead."

Dr. Leland nodded. "I see. What about her family life?"

"What about her family life?'

"Did you even ask?"

Edward frowned a bit at the tone in her voice. "Why would I? She's not my child, so her family life is none of my concern."

Dr. Leland had her hands folded in front of her face in thought. "Think about it Edward. If her mother is dead and she has no real adult guidance in her life, it could explain why she's clinging to the idea of you being her father so strongly."

Edward began to fidget slightly with his sleeve. The last thing he wanted was to feel sympathy for the little interloper. "That's unfortunate," he conceded. "But it's not my responsibility. She doesn't have the right to come barging into my office and upend my entire life because she's lonely."

Dr. Leland hummed in agreement. "I'll grant you that. But Edward, unlikely as it may sound, is it possible that she's right? That you are her father?"

"Of course it's possible Dr. Leland," Edward bit out. "It's also possible that she could be an alternate version of myself from a parallel Earth. I don't think it's likely however."

Dr. Leland was unperturbed by the sarcasm. "Parallel Earths aside Edward: is it possible?"

Edward ran a hand through his hair. He hadn't found any definitive link between himself and Diane Dixon, but that was a far cry from proving he'd never had at least an encounter with her. He certainly hadn't been tomcatting about like Bruce Wayne, but he hadn't been a monk either. "I don't know," he admitted. "She gave me the name of her mother. I've been looking into it, but I haven't found any proof that I ever met her. That's why I called you."

Dr. Leland seemed satisfied by the explanation. "What was her mother's name?"

"Diane Dixon."

Dr. Leland furrowed her brow. "That's not a name I remember. I can look into your Arkham records, but I don't think you ever received a visit from this person."

"That's what I thought," Edward said, placing his hands on his knees. He was beginning to feel relief. "Well then, if she never cared to visit me or even informed me that I had a child, then I couldn't have ever been involved with her."

Dr. Leland didn't look quite as convinced. "Edward...have you considered the possibility that Ms. Dixon may have willfully kept this from you?"

Edward blinked. The thought actually hadn't occurred to him. At worst, he thought there may have been a slight possibility of the Arkham staff keeping such a thing from him, but..."Why would she have?" he asked. "If I had a child, I had every right to know about it."

Dr. Leland seemed to carefully consider her next words before she spoke. "Edward, how old is the girl? Do you know?"

"15," Edward answered. "She was born in 1991."

"1991...Edward, that was the year you first started in your criminal career. If you and Ms. Dixon had had a relationship, there's a chance that it ended poorly. She may have felt she needed to keep her child away to protect her from you."

Edward got out of his chair in anger. "Protect her from-! Just what do you take me for?" He paced on the floor. "I'll be the first to admit I'm not the most pleasant person to be around at times, but I don't take any pleasure in beating women or children! I'm not some common thug! I'm not the Joker! I'm not my-" Edward stopped before he could finish his sentence and took a deep breath. "Even Rogues have some standards, Dr. Leland."

"I didn't mean to imply anything of the sort Edward," Dr. Leland said softly. "I'm just trying to explain what may have been going through Ms. Dixon's mind. If you had known that you had a child, would it have kept you from being the Riddler?"

Edward considered this. Fatherhood and family life had never held much appeal for him. His own childhood had seen to that. Still... "That's almost impossible to say now Dr. Leland, but...no. Probably not." Edward sighed. "I wouldn't have been any kind of a father. But I wouldn't have abandoned her either. I would have fulfilled my basic legal obligations toward her. That's about all that can be expected of me."

"And what about now?"

Edward shook his head. "Nothing's changed. On the infinitely small chance she is my child, I'd pay child support, but I'm no father. No matter how much she wants me to be."

"Have you considered doing a DNA test? It may be the only way to know for sure."

"I'm not going to consent to a procedure based on nothing but her say so, Dr. Leland. If I find any evidence that I actually knew her mother, then I'll consider it."

Dr. Leland nodded. "Fair enough Edward. I'll see if I can get a look at your Arkham records and I'll let you know what I find. But Edward," she said, a serious look coming across her face. "I can't say anything for certain about the girl's mental state without speaking to her myself, but from what I've heard, it seems like she's a vulnerable young girl who genuinely believes she is your daughter. I want you to consider how you'll handle this going forward. If you aren't her father, you need to break it to her gently. If you are her father-'

"I'm not," Edward interrupted. "How many times do I have to say it-"

"But if you are," Dr. Leland continued. "You have more than a legal obligation to her."

Edward huffed. "So what am I supposed to do? Enroll in a parenting class?"

"I can't tell you what to do Edward. But it's not just your life you need to be thinking about now." Dr. Leland turned back to her notes. "I have to get back to work, but let me know what you find out Edward."

"I'm sure it will make for a delightful session," Edward groused. "Well then, goodbye Dr. Leland." Edward crossed to the door and shut it behind him. As he made his way out of the office building and towards his car, he went over Dr. Leland's words. Alright, he conceded. Maybe he'd been a little hard on the girl. She was obnoxious and naive, but she was a teenager with no parents and a more active than could be considered healthy fantasy life. She needed counseling, not an ex-super villain for a parent. Edward opened his car door with a bit more force than necessary. Not to speak ill of the dead, but her mother certainly did her no favors by keeping her father's identity such a mystery-Edward paused as he reached for his car keys. If he couldn't find a connection between himself and Diane Dixon in his own past, then he should be looking into hers. What exactly did he know about Diane Dixon anyway? Edward turned the keys into the ignition and started back towards his office. He had research to do.

* * *

That night saw Edward sitting at his computer in his office and rubbing his temples in frustration. His research into Diane Dixon turned out to be even less fruitful than his look into his own past. At least he'd had his old criminal record to go on. Diane Dixon didn't even have as much as a parking ticket. Nothing in his hours of research had turned up anything that showed that she was anything more than an average citizen of Gotham. Edward sighed as he looked over the information he'd obtained from various online archives. She'd been born in Gotham in May of 1970, she'd attended Gotham Central High School and graduated in 1988, she'd given birth to Ellen Dixon in 1991 and she'd died in 2001. In between, she'd worked a series of menial jobs, her last one being as a secretary. Nothing special about her whatsoever. Briefly, Edward regretted not asking the girl for more information about her mother. He'd only found one photograph of her, an old, small black and white picture that had been used for her obituary notice in the paper. The only consolation he had was that he couldn't find any link between her and his past crimes.

"Not nearly good enough Edward," he murmured to himself. "You need to find someone who knew her. Someone she would have confided in."

His search for any relatives or friends netted few results. There was a younger sister who lived in Arizona and was therefore useless, her mother, who lived in Gotham and was more than likely the one with custody over the girl, and Ellen herself, who Edward had no interest in seeing again. The only other person mentioned in her obituary notice was a Cynthia Morris, described as being a 'lifelong friend' of Diane's. Edward wrote down her name and entered her name into the search engine. In his experience, friends were usually more forthcoming about certain details than family. He could only hope that she was still in Gotham.

His search ended much quicker than expected. The first result that showed up was an advertisement for a new age boutique she owned in Gotham's West End. Edward smiled a bit. Just a few more hours and hopefully, he'd have the answer he needed.

* * *

Edward left bright and early the next morning to get to the West End. As he drove through the old neighborhood, he was overcome by a peculiar sense of nostalgia, if it was possible to feel nostalgia for a place and time you didn't quite remember. 20 years earlier, Gotham's West End had been a haven for artistic, unconventional types. It had also been a hive where drugs had run rampant and where many of the big time players in Gotham's underworld had gotten their start. Edward's first hideout had been here, or so Query and Echo had told him. It had been at a BDSM club in this part of town where he had first met them, when he was 19 and the Riddler was nothing more than a vague idea in the back of his mind than a reality. 20 years had changed a lot in Gotham, the West End included. The West End now was a haven for yuppies and the coffee shops, boutiques and the uniform apartment blocks that they adored. The BDSM club where he'd met Query and Echo was an organic bakery now. The danger was gone, but the character had gone with it. It was a sanitized shell of itself.

Edward shook his head as he looked for the boutique's address. The West End could almost be a metaphor for himself, he supposed. He saw the Boutique approaching on the right side. He pulled his car in front of the storefront and parked. Hopefully, the place was open on a Saturday. He got out of his car, walked up to the door and turned the knob. The door opened and Edward was overcome by the smell of cheap Incense candles and New Age music. "Hello?" he called out. "Anyone here?"

Edward heard a rustling sound from the back of the store. A moment later, a dark haired woman about his age, dressed in a manner that a Woodstock groupie would think was a bit try hard emerged from behind a beaded curtain. She made eye contact with him and froze.

Edward braced himself for her reaction. His encounters with Gotham citizens since his reformation tended to go two ways: either they panicked, or they treated him like he was a celebrity. He preferred the latter most cases, but he really had no time for either right now. " I suppose I don't need to tell you who I am. Are you Ms. Cynthia Morris?"

The woman smiled. "Yes," she answered in a chipper tone. "Welcome." She looked at him with a somewhat appreciative glance. "Would you care for a scented candle? I make them myself. I have special discounts for our more _interesting_ customers. I sold some to Harley Quinn a few months ago."

Well, this was getting uncomfortable. "No, thank you," he answered. "I need some information from you. It's regarding Diane Dixon's daughter."

Cynthia Morris' smile fell and a concerned look appeared. "Ellie? Is she alright?"

"She's fine. I've been hired to look into her paternity."

Ms. Morris was visibly relieved by this, and her expression turned curious. "Really? Rachel hired you?"

"No," Edward replied. "Ellen did." This woman didn't need to know the full details, but lying to her wouldn't get him anywhere.

The woman laughed. "Ellie's always been a little spitfire. So, what do you need to know from me?"

"You were friends with her mother, right?"

Ms. Morris nodded. "Yeah, we were best friends since high school. We actually rented an apartment together in this neighborhood after we graduated." Her face took on a wistful expression. "We used to tear up the nightlife here back then. We had such a great time together. Diane wanted to open up an art gallery here. She was an artist you know. But nothing ever came of that."

"Because Ellen was born?"

Ms. Morris gave him a reproaching look. "Diane had to give up a lot for her, but she loved Ellie something fierce. That little girl was her entire world."

Edward help up his hands in supplication. "I didn't mean to imply anything about your friend. Do you have any idea who Ellen's father was? Did Ms. Dixon ever tell you?"

Cynthia shook her head. "No," she said. "I asked after she got pregnant, but she never said a word."

Edward frowned a bit. "But you were roommates. Wouldn't she have confided in you?"

"She did," Ms. Morris said. "But not about this. She seemed terrified whenever I asked. Hell, she moved out of this neighborhood and back with her mother as soon as she could. I think she was running from him."

Edward wet his lip. This was becoming more and more unsavory. "Do you know who she was dating in the fall of 1990?"

Ms. Morris nodded. "Oh yeah. There were three guys she'd been seeing that year."

Edward raised an eyebrow. "Three?"

Ms. Morris glared at him. "I know what you're thinking, but Di was a nice girl. She just liked to have a little fun. Don't you?"

Given the fact that he'd shared his bed for the better part of a decade with a man who regularly gassed the citizens of Gotham, Edward was the last person who would judge anyone for their extracurricular activities. He pulled out his notebook from his breast pocket and a pen "I'm not thinking anything, Ms. Morris. I'd just like more information about these men. Do you remember their names?"

Ms. Morris bit her lip. "Sure, I think. The first guy was a guy she met at a poetry reading around the first half of the year. Dylan Something. They only went out a few times though. He overdosed about a year after Ellie was born. The second guy was a bit more serious. His name is Alex Graves. They dated until about June. He works on the Stock Market now."

Edward wrote this down. A dead druggie and a stock broker. Quite an assortment. "And the third man?" he asked.

"Ah," Ms. Morris nodded, with a bittersweet smile on her face. "If I had to pick anyone for Ellie's dad, it'd be him."

This got Edward's attention. "Oh?" he asked. "Why?"

"He was the last guy she dated before Ellie was born," she answered. "Hell, Di dumped Alex to get more exclusive with this guy."

This was promising. "Did you ever meet him?"

"No, but Di used to talk about him all the time. Said he was the most interesting guy she'd ever met. He was really smart."

"Do you remember his name?"

Ms. Morris furrowed her brow as she tried to recall. "Oh, it's been a long time...Ted, I think."

Edward scowled a bit, but decided to change track. Maybe talking more about him would jog her memory. "What happened?"

Ms. Morris sighed. "Di went out on a date with him one night. She said he told her he wanted to talk with her about something important. She was so excited. She thought he was going to commit to her." She reached up to dab at her eyes. "She came back after an hour, hysterical."

Edward felt something that was dangerously close to pity. "Did he hurt her?"

"No, bastard didn't lay a hand on her. Turned out he was some kind of hood. He wanted to bring her into some gang he was putting together. Diane told him to go to Hell and ran back here. A month later, she found out she was pregnant." Ms. Morris let out a shaky breath. "That really messed her up bad. I think she was really starting to fall for the guy."

Edward wrote this information down, then recalled what Echo had told him the previous day: " _The most you ever talked about anyone else was this one time you were thinking about bringing in a fourth member to our gang. I don't know who that was though. Might not have even been a woman."_ Edward felt the hair on the back of his head stand up. "Do you have any idea what this man's last name was?"

Ms. Morris squinted. "Oh God...Let me think...Dash, I think? No, Nash-something?"

Edward's blood ran cold. "Nashton?" he half whispered, half breathed.

Ms. Morris smiled and snapped her fingers. "That's it! Eddie Nashton! The jerk's name was Eddie Nashton! He-" She looked back at him and stared. "Are you okay?"

Edward couldn't hear her over the sound of his heart pounding. _Oh. Shit._


	3. Chapter 3

Edward didn't know how long he stood in the new age shop, turning over Ms. Morris' words in his head over and over again. _Eddie Nashton! The jerk's name was Eddie Nashton! I think she was really starting to fall for the guy. If I had to pick anyone as Ellie's dad, it'd be him. I'm your daughter. I'm not crazy. I'm your daughter-_

"Mr. Nigma? Hello?" Ms. Morris tentatively placed her hand on his shoulder. "Are you there?"

The contact brought Edward out of his daze and he took a step back. "Fine," he said, his voice sounding shaky. "Just fine." Ms. Morris looked askance at him, but didn't pry any further. Edward placed his notebook back into his breast pocket and took a quick gulp. "Did you ever tell Ellen about this?" _About me?_

Ms. Morris shook her head. "No. I wanted to when Ellie asked, but Di wouldn't let me. Like I said, I think she was scared to death about him finding out about her. I think she was a bit ashamed too."

 _Of course. What law abiding citizen would want to admit that they had a child with the Riddler?_ "What about after Ms. Dixon died? Why didn't you say anything then?"

She shrugged and Edward felt the urge to strangle her. "Ellie's a kid. She doesn't need to know all the stuff her mom and I used to get into. And I thought I'd be disrespecting Di's memory."

"I see," Edward seethed. "So you thought that respecting a dead woman's feelings was more important than telling a living child about her father?"

Ms. Morris face twisted into a scowl. "Where the Hell do you get off?" she asked him. "Just what should I tell Ellie? That her father was some kind of hood and that he scared the crap out of her mother? You think Ellie needs someone like that in her life? And for all I know, he's in prison or he's dead. What good would telling her that do?"

"It would be better than her living in the dark for her entire life," Edward argued. "She came to me because she wanted answers. That should tell you all you need to know." Edward turned and walked towards the front door, before he said something he'd regret. "Good bye Ms. Morris."

"Why are you taking this so personally? Do you know who this Nashton guy is?" he heard her call after him. Edward didn't answer, instead slamming the door shut behind him.

Edward barely made it back into his car before his legs gave way beneath him. He collapsed into his front seat and tore off his hat, throwing it into the back seat. He ran his fingers down his face and fought off the urge to scream, laugh and cry all at once. He'd known Diane Dixon. He'd been with Diane Dixon. He was now the most likely candidate for Ellen Dixon's father. He had a daughter. He had a little girl. How couldn't he have known about this? Where had he been? His thoughts turned to Diane Dixon again and he felt a fresh wave of anger at her and at himself. How _dare_ she. How dare she keep this from him all these years. If she'd been a one night stand or a fling, he could have understood why he wouldn't have remembered her. But they'd been together for months. She was starting to fall in love with him. If he'd been entertaining bringing her into his gang, he must have felt something for her beyond vague amusement. She must have meant _something_ to him! And yet, when he tried to recall her face, or the sound of her voice, all he came up with was a blank. If he couldn't remember her, what else was he missing? Ms. Morris' words came back to the forefront of his mind. She may have been falling in love with him, but she'd been terrified of him by the end. What had he said or done to her that made her think hiding her-his-their child from him was the only option?

Edward rested his head against the steering wheel. He needed to talk to someone. And he needed a strong drink.

* * *

The Iceberg Lounge didn't actually open until 4:00 pm on Saturdays, but being friends with Oswald Cobblepot had its perks. Said perks included having a seat at the owner's table and an unlimited bar tap, which Edward was fully taking advantage of. Edward finished his third shot in as many minutes and slammed the glass down on the table. The movement caused the other, numerous empty shot glasses to rattle. He looked at the bottle of whiskey he'd been drinking from and frowned when he realized that it was empty. "Barkeep, another!"

One of Oswald's waiters approached with a nervous look on his face. "Uh, Mr. Nigma, you've had an awful lot already-"

Edward looked up to glare at the unfortunate man. "You aren't paid to tell me when I've had enough," he hissed. "Another!"

The other occupant at the table raised his hand. "No George, Mr. Nigma has had enough."

The waiter nodded. "Yes Sir, Mr. Cobblepot," he stammered. He scurried back towards the front of the restaurant, almost tripping in his haste.

Oswald looked at Edward disapprovingly. "I know it's not the way you wanted the case to go Edward," he scolded. "But that's no reason to harangue my wait staff."

Edward didn't respond, instead fiddling with one of the empty shot glasses. Oswald continued on. "Are you absolutely certain that there was no other man around the time the girl would have been conceived? You said yourself that her mother was a bit...free with her affections."

Edward shook his head. "Not according to Ms. Morris. She wouldn't have any reason to lie to me, given what she admitted about the two of them." Edward took his face into his hands. "Oh God Ozzie...I'm a father."

"You don't know that for certain," Oswald argued. "You still need to do the DNA test. Then you'll know."

Edward banged his head against the table. "What am I going to do?"

Oswald awkwardly raised his hand to pat his shoulder. "There, there. It could be worse. At least the girl's a teenager. Just get the Paternity test done, send her money until she turns 18 and then wash your hands of the whole thing."

Edward looked up at Oswald. "Just like that?"

"Well, yes. That's all you're obligated to do." Oswald raised an eyebrow at Edward. "Edward, not two nights ago you were telling me that you had absolutely no interest in being a parent. Has that changed?"

"Y-No-I don't know anymore." Edward sighed as he tried to organize his thoughts into something coherent. He'd told Oswald and Dr. Leland that giving monetary support was the only way he'd have anything to do with the girl- _Ellen_. He needed to start calling her Ellen. That had been an easy enough thing to say when he thought she was nothing more than a charlatan. Now that he was faced with the overwhelming possibility that she was precisely who she said she was, it didn't seem so easy. "I can barely take care of myself, Ozzie. I know that much. I'm not saying I want to take her in or anything like that, but she's _mine_. I can't just write a check every month and pretend that she doesn't exist otherwise."

"Why not?" Oswald asked him. "She's a teenager, not a small child. It's not as if she really needs much raising anymore. At any rate, you said yourself that the girl was presumptuous and obnoxious."

Edward chuckled as bit. "Yes. A regular chip off the old block." Edward rose to his feet, gripping the edges of the table to steady himself. Speaking to Oswald and drinking his liquor hadn't helped him decide one way or another if he was going to be a father to Ellen, but it had helped him screw up his courage to face her. "Thanks for seeing me Oswald."

Oswald nodded. "Anytime Edward. Just don't do anything rash."

* * *

It took only a cursory search to find Ellen's address. She and her grandmother shared an apartment in Gotham's West End. It was unusually quiet for a Saturday afternoon, Edward thought as he parked his car and entered the building. He cast a critical look at the cracked wall paper and the humidity of the apartment building as he walked up the stairs. He'd known his fair share of dives, but he'd shared better places with Query and Echo, Jonathan and even with Arthur Brown of all people. Finally, he reached her apartment. 23B. Edward took a deep breath and knocked. There was no response. Edward frowned. Were they out? He knocked again. While he waited, a terrible thought came to mind. What if Ellen wasn't home, but her grandmother was? Did she know what her granddaughter had been up to? And if she didn't, what exactly was he going to say to her? 'Good afternoon Madam. My name is Edward Nigma, formerly known as the super villain the Riddler and I'm almost certain I'm your granddaughter's father! May I come in?' Before his train of thought went careening off the tracks, the door opened.

Ellen stood there, dressed in what Edward assumed were her mother's old clothes. They looked too worn and out of date to be anything else. Now that he was face to face with her again, Edward took a moment to look at her. To really see her. Her frame didn't match his at all, she had a different shape to her nose, and her hair was a brighter shade of red than his had ever been, but those green eyes of hers could have only come from one person. He could admit that now. Her face paled and her jaw dropped when she saw him. "You-how'd you find me?"

Despite the situation, Edward found it in him to roll his eyes. How could he have fathered someone so naive? "Child, I used to be able to hack into databases that have been classified since before we were born. Did you really think I couldn't find your address?"

Ellen recovered quickly from her shock and shot him a glare. "Whatever old man. So what do you want?"

Here it was. Edward wet his lip. "I've found some information about your father that you need to know about. May I come in?"

Ellen fully opened the door to the apartment and gestured for him to follow her. Edward crossed the threshold and entered her apartment for the first time. Edward furrowed his brow as he examined the place. It was well kept at least, even if some of the decor was a little chintzy for his liking. It seemed smaller than his own and it fit twice as many people. What caught his attention however were the sketches hung up all over the apartment. Most of them were of scenic locations in Gotham, but there was one in particular that caught his eye. It was of a woman, with strawberry blonde hair and blue eyes, and a large smile. Edward walked up to it and studied it for a moment. Judging from the just noticeable resemblance she bore to Ellen, she had to be Diane. This was the woman he'd spent months of his early life in Gotham with. This was the woman he'd broken the heart of. He felt no more connection to her than if she was an anonymous model in an art museum. "Did you draw this?" he asked.

"Yeah," Ellen answered. "I drew about half of this stuff. Mom drew the other half. She used to be an artist."

"So I've heard," Edward said. He drew a deep breath and turned from the portrait to face Ellen. She was looking at him expectantly, trying but failing to come across as aloof. She seemed to be just as nervous about hearing what Edward had to tell her as Edward was of saying it.

"Is your grandmother here?" he asked her.

Ellen shook her head. "No, she's working a double shift at Gotham General. She won't be back until late tonight. Why?"

Edward remembered what Dr. Leland had said about Ellen's possible lack of adult guidance and frowned a bit. "Does that happen often? You being alone like this?" It would explain how she'd been able to get out to play superhero the other night.

Ellen shrugged. "So what? I'm not a little kid, I can handle it." She narrowed her eyes at him in suspicion. "What do you care? I thought you said you weren't my dad."

Edward sighed. Now or never. "I spoke to an old friend of your mother's today. A Ms. Cynthia Morris. I trust you know her?"

Ellen's eyes widened a bit. "Yeah. She used to come around a lot when Mom was alive. I haven't seen her much since Mom died though. Gramma can't stand her." Ellen looked at her feet and huffed and the expression on his face made Edward's stomach twist in how familiar it was. "She blames her for me being born the way I was."

Edward tried not to dwell on that and pressed forward. "Anyway, Ms. Morris told me about the man your mother was with around the time of your conception. His name was Edward Nashton."

Ellen looked stricken for a moment, then realization dawned on her. "Wait, I read about this..that was your name before you changed it! You're Edward Nashton!" She looked up at him and her face was lit up in triumph. "I knew it! You are my father!"

Ellen looked at him with such excitement that Edward momentarily regretted ever doubting her in the first place. "I can't be certain without a DNA test, but yes. It's highly probable now."

Ellen nodded. "Ok. What do you want me to do? Give you some of my hair? Spit in a cup?"

Edward winced. "A spare toothbrush will be more than sufficient."

Ellen rushed off without another word, leaving Edward alone. Out of the corner of his eye, he spied a picture on the coffee table in front of the TV. Upon picking it up, he realized that it was of Diane and Ellen when Ellen was a toddler. From their surroundings, they seemed to be in a park, Diane pushing Ellen on a swing set. The two of them seemed so happy together in the photograph. Edward sighed. They seemed to have gotten on just fine without him in the picture. If Diane was still alive, would Ellen have even bothered seeking him out?

He was interrupted by the sound of Ellen walking back up to him. "Here you are," she said holding out the toothbrush. She paused when she saw what he was looking at. "Do you remember Mom at all?"

Edward placed the picture down. "No," he said. He took the toothbrush from her outstretched hand, thankful as always for his decision to wear gloves. "I'll call you when I get the results back."

"'K," Ellen answered. "Then what?"

Edward turned away to leave the apartment. "I don't know," he said, not daring to look at her. "We'll talk about it then. Goodbye." Then he walked out, shutting the door behind him.

* * *

A doctor who owed Edward a favor for catching his wife in an affair was willing to run the sample for him. For three days, Edward had nothing to do but work on his cases and wait for the results that would upend his world. Finally on Tuesday evening, a courier arrived at his office with the results in a sealed envelope. The man was barely out the door before Edward tore into it, ignoring the scientific jargon and going straight to the bottom line. _**PROBABILITY OF PATERNITY: 99.99% The alleged father, Edward Edwin Nashton cannot be excluded as the biological father of the tested child, Ellen Diane Dixon...**_

Edward sank into his office chair with a deep sigh. It was the result Edward had been prepared for since the day he'd spoken to Cynthia Morris, but really, what could ever prepare anyone for this?

"I'm a father," he whispered to no one in the room. "I'm a father." It didn't feel right to him at all. He'd never wanted to be a father. He'd never wanted that responsibility. And yet, he couldn't stop thinking about how his different his life might have been if he'd known about her from the start. He didn't regret being the Riddler in the slightest, no matter what he told Dr. Leland and the media, but...

Edward took off his glasses and rubbed the bridge of his nose. Before he called Ellen, he needed to decide once and for all what place she would have in his life. He'd give her money that much wasn't in doubt. No child of his was going to be dressed in an 80's party girl's castoffs. But beyond that? He weighed the pros and cons in his mind carefully. He had enough on his plate keeping himself in decent physical and mental shape. He didn't have the time to look after a minor child. But she was 15...He shook his head. She'd gotten through the first 15 years of her life well enough without him. No she hadn't. She's probably sitting right now in that cramped apartment by herself waiting for the answer to the question that's haunted her entire life... No. The last thing she needed was the complication of having a former super villain as a parent. She came to him. She knew full well who he was and _she_ still came to _him_. Her own mother didn't want him involved in her life. Should her wishes be cast aside? She didn't want who he was when he was 20. He had changed since then. How exactly had he changed? Like he'd told Dr. Young all those months ago, he was reformed. That didn't make him a good person. He wasn't capable of being what she wanted. Did he even know what she wanted? Had he even asked? Even if he couldn't be a father in the traditional sense, was there harm in getting to know her? Then he remembered Strange. What would he do if he knew Edward had a daughter who could be leveraged against him? He'd never allow him that kind of power over him. She couldn't be in his life. She'd put on a costume and got herself on the evening news just to get his attention. What would she do if he outright rejected her? That wasn't his responsibility. She was his daughter, whose responsibility was she if not his-

Edward sighed and ran a hand through his hair. It seemed that this was a riddle with no easy answer. No matter what he did, he wouldn't be doing the right thing by her. "Riddle me this," he whispered. "When did I begin to care about what the right thing to do is?" Edward picked up the phone on his desk and dialed a number. He'd made up his mind.

An hour later, Ellen stood in his office, still wearing her school backpack, reading over the results for herself. "I knew it," she said, a grin coming to her face. "Ever since I saw you on the TV. I just _knew_!" She turned her gaze from the paper to where Edward still sat in his office chair. He hadn't moved since she'd entered. "I told you I wasn't crazy," she said to him, with a slight edge to her voice. "Now what?"

Now what indeed? "I'll start sending child support payments to your grandmother's account. A few thousand a month should suffice."

Ellen looked slightly confused. "That's it?"

Edward felt himself hesitate but set his jaw firmly. This was for the best for both of them. "That's all I can give you."

The confusion on Ellen's face gave way to something else. "But-I thought-"

"What exactly did you think?" Edward asked her. "That seeing a DNA test would make me develop a paternal instinct? I'm not capable of being the father you want me to be. I'm sorry, but I'm just not."

Ellen's face darkened and she glared at him. "How the Hell do you know what kind of father I want you to be?" she asked him. "You haven't asked me once since I met you what I wanted!"

"What do you want then?"

Ellen's face softened as she looked at him and Edward began to feel his resolves slip away. "Look," she began. "I'm not stupid. I know you're not a good guy. You're probably the biggest jerk I've ever met. I don't want to live with you or anything like that. But you're my Dad. I still want to know you."

An emotion Edward never allowed himself to feel was beginning to form in him. "And the fact that your mother kept my identity from you doesn't bother you? How do you think she'd feel if you were here talking with me?"

Ellen shrugged her shoulders. "She'd be pissed. But Mom's dead. I can't let what she would have wanted control me for the rest of my life." She looked up at him, a beseeching look on her face. "I didn't think you'd be Dad of the Year or anything like that. But don't you want to know me? Just a little bit?"

Edward pointedly looked at his desk. "You want me to love you. I don't know that I'm capable of that."

Edward couldn't see her, but he could hear her next words. "Can't you at least try?" Edward looked up at her then. Her face was flushed and unshed tears were in her eyes. In _his_ eyes. For a brief moment, Edward was in another place and time and he was looking into the face of another child who so desperately wanted their father's love. Who did that make him now? He reached a tentative hand out across his desk. Ellen shrinked back, a defiant look in her eyes. "Forget it," she hissed out. "If you don't want me, I don't want you. See you 'round, old man." Ellen turned towards the door and walked out.

Edward could let her go. He could do what Oswald said he should and just send her money every month until she was 18. He could be done with it. Edward got out of his chair. No. He would not be _them_. "Ellen," he called out. "Wait."

Ellen turned as suddenly as if she'd heard a gunshot. Edward realized that this was the first time he'd called her by her actual name. He got up from his chair and began to cautiously approach her. She narrowed her eyes at him in suspicion. Edward supposed he deserved that. He stopped just in front of her, giving her space. "Ellen," he said again. "I...to start with, neither of us handled this well. You could have gotten in serious trouble with that Enigma stunt."

Ellen rolled her eyes, but said nothing. Edward continued. "I don't know that I can be any kind of a father to you. I'm a former super villain with a long list of enemies and a lot of issues, to put it mildly. There are certain parts of my life that you absolutely cannot be involved in, under any circumstance. And there will be absolutely no more superhero shenanigans. If you're willing to temper your expectations though..." Edward trailed off. There was no coming back from this. "I'd like to get to know you."

A small smile came back to Ellen's face. "That's all I want," she said. "So, now what?"

Edward sighed as he picked up his coat from his coat rack. "Now? I'll drop you off at your apartment, where I will have a long, serious conversation with your grandmother about just what kind of relationship we'll have."

Ellen's face fell slightly. "You..want to meet Gramma?"

Edward raised an eyebrow. "Well of course. She needs to be aware of this situation. Which I'm sure you've said nothing about. Did you really think you were going to keep this a secret from her?"

Ellen groaned. "She's going to kill me."

Edward let out a long suffering sigh. "You really didn't think this through, did you?"

Ellen stuck out her tongue. "Whatever old man."

Edward winced a bit as he opened the door. "Must you call me that? Can't you call me 'father'? Or 'Dad' even?" He gestured for her to exit.

"Nope," Ellen said cheekily as she walked out the office door. "You haven't earned that yet. You're Old Man. Or Pops."

Edward sighed. "I already regret this." Ellen looked up at him with a worried look. He raised a hand. "A joke." A thought came to Edward's mind. "You know," he said. "We really did get off on the wrong foot. Perhaps a reintroduction is in order."

Ellen smirked a bit and Edward's heart clenched at the familiarity. "Sure. Hiya Pops. I'm Ellen Dixon. I'm your daughter." She held out her hand to him.

A moment passed, before Edward took it. "Hello Ellen," he said. "I'm Edward Nigma. I'm your father."

It still didn't sound quite right to him. But maybe, just maybe, he could get used to it.


End file.
